Disclaimer: I do not own rights to Harry Potter, its characters, or any other part of the story.

I'm shaken awake urgently by a pair of hands on my shoulders.

"Ah – wha – whas apning?"

"Lizzie, it's past midnight. You need to get downstairs!" a voice whispers urgently.

"Huh?" I ask, still groggy but sitting up.

"You slept all day," Hermione whispers, casting cautious looks at my sleeping roommates, "Everyone's gone to bed. You need to get downstairs."

"Shite," I whisper, whipping out of bed and grabbing a pair of pajama pants from the bedside drawer, "What time is it?"

"Twelve forty."

"Is Harry down there?"

"He hasn't come back from Hagrid's," Hermione answers as we silently make our way out of my dormitory and start down the stairs.

"What was he doing at Hagrid's this late?"

"I don't know. He asked Harry to meet him at midnight under the Invisibility Cloak."

"And he didn't think that could make him late for the meeting?"

"I tried to tell him but you know he won't listen to me," Hermione sighed.

"Yeah, I know," I say, raising my voice only slightly once we're away from all the sleeping Gryffindors, "Go on up to bed, Hermione. If Harry doesn't make it I'll just relay whatever Padfoot says later. I was really hoping the three of us could be here, though."

"I know, but you know what he's like. Hopefully he'll get here in time. Goodnight, Lizzie."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

I sit down on one of the chairs in front of the fire, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I must have really been tired if I slept the entire afternoon and half the night. My stomach grumbles when I realize I missed dinner, and that my lunch consisted of a cheese sandwich and biscuits from the Three Broomsticks.

Ten minutes pass and my nervous glances toward the Portrait Hole become more and more frequent. What is taking Harry so long? And why on earth would Hagrid ask him to meet so late outside the castle? Isn't he supposed to be a professor? Why didn't he come pick Harry up himself? The last time Harry was out alone at night to see Hagrid he almost got eaten by giant spiders. And the time before that he literally ran straight into Voldemort himself.

Realizing that I'm sitting around worrying like an old maid, I sit up and take a deep breath, looking at the clock above the mantle again.

The Portrait Hole opens just five minutes before one o'clock.

"Finally!" I exclaim just above a whisper, "Where in Merlin's name have you been? Your shoes are all dirty."

Harry flings himself into an armchair across from me, tossing his Invisibility Cloak to the side.

"I was with Hagrid. You'll never believe what the first task is going to be!"

"What?"

"I'd like to know, too, if you don't mind."

Harry and I both jump slightly, an excuse ready at the tip of my tongue before I realize that the voice came from the fire, and that it's one I recognize.

"Dad," I sigh in relief, "I thought you were a prefect."

"Not even close," he winks. His appearance had been better when I saw him at the beginning of the summer than when we'd met at the Shrieking Shack, but now he looks healthier. The color has returned to his skin, although he is still pale like me. His cheeks have filled out and his face is clean shaven, and his long hair has been combed through, "How are you two?"

I look at Harry, figuring he's got much more to worry about at the moment, "You first."

Harry launches into the story of what's happened since his name was drawn, with Dad and I listening intently. I bristle at the thought of Ron leaving Harry to fend for himself, choosing to believe that Harry went looking for attention instead of realizing that his best friend is in danger. I bite my tongue on any remark, however, knowing that we probably have very little time and that Harry's safety is our biggest priority.

"And now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons! I'm a goner for sure."

"Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute. I haven't got long here," says Dad, "I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time."

"That's dangerous!" I say a little too loud, making Harry shush me with a hand on my mouth.

"You'll wake someone up."

"Sorry," I whisper sheepishly, looking back at Dad, "What were you thinking?"

"I needed a way to speak to you, and with the task coming up I expect Hogwarts is swarming with Aurors. I'd never make it back in. Now, there are some things I need to warn you about."

"What?" asks Harry, clearly not believing anything can get worse.

"Karkaroff. Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes – he – what?"

"He was caught," says Dad, "He was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts this year. Moody was the one who caught Karkaroff in the first place."

"But why would they release him?" I ask, leaning closer to the fireplace.

"He made a deal with the Ministry," Dad answers, the bitterness clear in his voice, "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he gave names...he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place. He's not very popular there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Drumstrang champion as well."

"Do you think Karkaroff put Harry's name in the Goblet?"

"If he did, he must be a very good actor," says Harry, "He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"We know he's a good actor," Dad answers, "because he convinced the entire Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the Daily Prophet and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month. Moody was attacked the night before he started Hogwarts."

"But that was..."

"I know she says it was a false alarm, but I don't think so. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a little more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's heard intruders a bit too often. But that doesn't mean he can't still spot the real thing. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry ever had."

"He said something to me," I say, suddenly remembering the comment that put me off so long ago, "I don't know if he knows it for a fact, or he was just testing my reaction. But he said something about the next time I talked to you."

"Well, Moody vouched for me on more than one occasion. It was one of the reasons people started thinking he was going mad."

I nod, recalling similar comments.

"So Moody is definitely on our side, then?" I ask, "We can trust him?"

"I believe so," said Dad.

"So...what are you saying?" Harry asks slowly, "You thinking Karkaroff is trying to kill me? But why?"

Dad and I share a look through the fire, knowing that this is where I gets evermore complicated.

"There are...signs," I say slowly.

"Signs?"

"The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately," Dad explains, "They showed up at the World Cup, and set off the Dark Mark. And then...did you hear about that witch from the Ministry of Magic who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?"

"Exactly...she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort was rumored to be last...and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she? I knew her. She was at Hogwarts a few years above us. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"So you think Voldemort got wind of the Tournament, and that Karkaroff is here on his orders?" asks Harry, still seeming to have a hard time believing everything we're saying.

I bite my lip and put a hand on Harry's knee, "There are signs Harry. A lot of signs. I think...Dumbledore and some of the professors are reading them, too. Dumbledore went through all this trouble to bring back a long-dead tradition, and he keeps going on about building friendships and strong relationships with foreign wizards. I think he's trying to build allies. And then..."

"What?" asks Harry when I stop.

"What is it, Lizzie?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair and looking between my dad in the flames and Harry beside me, "I've been having...dreams. They started over the summer, and I didn't really pay much attention to them. It wouldn't be the first time I had trouble sleeping or woke up from a nightmare...But then with what happened at the World Cup...and now that I know Dumbledore is preparing for something..."

"What else do you know, Lizzie?" asks Dad, "What are you not telling us?"

Harry looks slightly betrayed for a moment, but the scared look in my eyes seems to soften his expression, "What is it?"

"Dumbledore is preparing," I whisper, "You can't tell anyone...he's preparing for a fight...I'm not taking Remedial Potions, Harry, or learning to make Wolfsbane. Professor Snape is...I'm his apprentice...And I've spent every free hour of the last few months learning how to make healing potions, truth potions, antidotes, and poisons. Anything that might be useful for...for..."

"For a war," says Dad, and I nod, "It's smart. We didn't have a Potions Master last time. The closest we did have were Lily and Remus, but neither of them could make Potions as fast and as well as a proper Potions Master. I just wish you had a different teacher."

"He's the best there is, Dad. Regardless of how much you hate each other, it is what it is."

"Yes, yes, I know. Just be careful."

"So you see, Harry," I say, turning my attention back to the green eyed boy whose head must be spinning by now, "This must all be connected somehow. Something is coming...at least that's what the strange shadow in my dreams always says. And this must all be part of some bigger plan. Whoever put your name in the Goblet of Fire did it for a reason, and I can't help thinking that the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like a really good plan from where I'm standing," says Harry, "They'll just have to stand back and let the dragons do their stuff."

"Right – these dragons," says Dad, before suddenly going quiet, "Someone just Apparated into the front yard. I have to go. Take care of each other. Watch out for one another and be careful!"

And with a tiny pop of the fire, the flames went back to red and Dad's face was gone.

"Might I offer you a bet?" George asks as we start our way toward the arena of the first task on Tuesday.

"You're joking, right?" I ask, raising and eyebrow at my friend.

"I'll take that as a no," says George, wandering off through the crowd to make more offers on the betting pool. Fred is entertaining a couple of second years who seem convinced of their luck, so I latch onto Katie and Angelina so as not to lose them.

"Lizzie!"

I turn to see a familiar redheaded girl walking briskly in my direction and smile.

"Hey, Ginny! Want to join us?"

My friends echo my invitation when Ginny seems uncertain, and pretty soon Angelina has linked her arm around the younger Weasley's as well. We catch up with Hermione a few feet ahead, looking anxious next to a scowling Ron.

"Hermione!" I break off from my friend chain and grab her by the hand, pulling her toward our group of girls. She looks very happy to be away from Ron, who has started a conversation with Dean Thomas.

"Thank you," she sighs, "If I had to hear Ronald mutter under his breath one more time..."

"Let's be grateful we walked by when we did," Katie laughed.

Hermione and I walk a couple paces behind the other girls, our heads close together while they begin a conversation about how stubborn boys can be.

"Please tell me Harry has a plan for getting past his dragon," I grip Hermione's arm a bit too tightly.

"He does. We've been practicing all day." Hermione answers before looking around and biting her lip.

"You don't seem convinced."

"I'm worried," she nods, "I mean, it's a dragon, Lizzie! You don't think they'll let anybody get hurt, do you?"

"They'll get hurt," I answer, "Dumbledore just won't let them get killed. Come on, the others are moving faster."

My stomach is a ball of nerves by the time we take our seats.

"No camera today, Lizzie?" Colin Creevey asks from a few seats away, holding up his own device.

"If one of my closest friends gets roasted to a crisp I would rather not have it on print, Colin."

I can barely pay attention as the task begins, nor can I care much about the other champions, and I know Hermione is the same. Every time one of the other three gets a close call between them and the fire, we wince and look at each other.

"You okay?" Fred asks me quietly after Krum's performance. George's eyes flicker towards us, but he otherwise leaves us be.

"I'm just ready for this to be over."

"None of the others have gotten off too bad," Fred assured.

"But Harry only knows half as many spells as the rest of them," I say, chewing on my lip again.

"Harry's gotten past scarier things than dragons. He'll be fine. I've got five galleons on it."

I roll my eyes, but realize that I may be settling Harry short. He got past a troll when he was eleven, and that was something that not many grown wizards can do.

"Alright," I sigh, turning to Hermione as the Hungarian Horntail's cage gate opens to let her out, along with her eggs, "What's the plan, again?"

"We spent the entire day and night practicing a Summoning Charm," Hermione explains, "He seems to have mastered it."

"But Summoning the egg won't work. Bagman said so."

"He's not going to Summon the egg," Hermione smirked as Harry walked out to thunderous applause.

"Then what is he going to do?" I ask when the applause and cheers lowers a bit in volume.

"He just did it!" Hermione yells back, pointing at Harry as he stows his wand away.

For a moment, Harry just stands there looking toward the sky, and I'm convinced that whatever he had planned did not work. But before I can so much as tug on Hermione's arm, something long and brown zooms through the air into Harry's hand and he's suddenly flying high above the rest of us.

"Flying!" I shout gleefully, my hands grabbing onto Hermione's sweater, "Of course!"

The crowd roars as Harry hovers for only a moment.

"An excellent Summoning Charm, folks!" Ludo Bagman says from the commentary box, "Now, let's see Mr. Potter put that broom to use!"

Just then, Harry dives quickly toward the ground, and the dragon's head follows him. Just as the Horntail inhales, Harry pulls out of the dive in record time, leaving the stream of fire breath far below him.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" Bagman exclaims, the crowd shrieking even louder than before, "Take note, Mr. Krum!"

"What's he doing?" Hermione asks as Harry flies around in circles.

"He's making her dizzy, look," says Ginny, pointing at the Hungarian Horntail's large head, which is following Harry back and forth like a snake's head.

"Oh no," says Hermione just as the dragon opened it's mouth, her fingers rushing to her hairline and digging into her forehead.

Harry is fast enough to dive away from the flames, but not fast enough to entirely miss the large spiked tail that grazes his robes on the way down. I gasp, before going back to chewing on my lip until I'm fairly certain I broke the skin.

"Come on, Harry!"

"GO HARRY!"

"POTTER! POTTER! POTTER!"

The arena shakes with cheers, nearly three quarters of the Hogwarts students screaming for Harry. Even some of the Slytherins seem excited about Harry's performance. Half their Quidditch team looks reluctantly impressed. Meanwhile Harry soars higher and higher, the dragon's head following and rising with him until he is too far up for her to stay on the ground.

Finally, the dragon unfurls its wings, her front legs rising from the ground and away from her eggs.

Before the dragon can flap her wings a second time, Harry is already halfway toward the ground, arm stretching out to grab the golden egg in record time.

It's like somebody turned up the volume in the arena as Harry soars above the stands, golden egg under his arm and all. My worry disappears and all that is left is joy, relief, and pride as Hermione and I scream and clap as loud as the other Gryffindors. Even Ron, who had sat himself a few rows back with Seamus and Dean, looks absolutely thrilled for Harry.

"He was the fastest one!" Lee yells from behind me, holding up a timer and comparing it to the one Angelina and Katie are holding, "It took him half the time that Diggory did!"

Harry lands in front of Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody, and Hagrid with a slightly goofy smile on his face. The three teachers congratulate him quickly before sending him off to the medical tent to treat the cut on his shoulder.

"Come on, Hermione," I grab the girl's sleeve and begin to shove my way through the crowd and toward the medical tent. About halfway there, Ron walks up in front of us and starts moving people away so that the three of us can pass.

Ron quickly yanks back the tent opening to let us in, and I realize for the first time that he is as white as a sheet.

"Harry!" I grab his good shoulder and look him up and down before pulling him into a tight hug, "Thank goodness you're alright!"

Harry gasps, but places a hand on my back and sighs in relief anyway.

"Has anybody ever told you that you act like a mother hen?" Harry jokes.

"With friends like mine, some one has to," I smile, playfully patting his cheek and giving it a small pinch, which in turn makes him squirm.

"You were brilliant, Harry!" Hermione squeals, the fingernail marks still visible on her face.

Harry thanks her before looking warily at Ron. Hermione and I both take steps back, tensing as the two boys stare at each other for a beat.

"Harry, whoever put your name in that goblet – I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

I almost laugh, but Hermione looks about ready to cry so I decide to keep my amusement to myself.

"Caught on have you? Took you long enough."

Harry is so obviously pretending to be angry that I have to bite my tongue and breathe through my nose to keep a straight face.

"I-"

"It's okay, forget it."

Hermione lets out a sigh so long that I'm afraid she'll collapse on the floor, and Harry stops Ron before he can try to apologize again. Before long the two of them are grinning at each other like idiots, and that's when Hermione actually does burst into tears.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry says, obviously bewildered.

That's when I can no longer hold in a snort of laughter, and before long I'm apologizing to Hermione and she's assuring me that it's alright, and she's only crying because the boys are so stupid.

"Go check your scores, Harry," I say, finally getting serious and patting Hermione on the back, "But give Hermione a hug first."

Hermione quickly hugs each of the boys while they stand awkwardly and barely have time to react, and then I lead her out of the medical tent and back to the edge of the stands.

"Is she alright?" Angelina asks me.

"The boys made up," I explain, to which she and Katie nod in understanding and each give a sniffling Hermione a pat on the back.

After the points are tallied, the champions go back to their tent and the crowd starts to dissipate. Ron and Hermione decide to wait for Harry, but my friends drag me away to help plan a surprise party.

"Tell Harry to write to Padfoot later," I say to Hermione as the twins almost carry me away with their arms linked around each of mine.

"We'll go as soon as he finishes up here," Ron answers, "See you in the Common Room."

I wiggle out of the twins' grip and begin to walk up to the castle without assistance. Lee takes Fred's place beside me.

"Lizzie, you wouldn't happen to have anything dragon related in your repertoire of fireworks, would you?"

"Nothing small enough for the common room," I shake my head, "But let me sneak down to the dungeons and see what I can do about that."

"The dungeons?" Angelina asks, "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Not for me," I wink, "I think I'm beginning to get on Snape's good side."

"Snape has a good side?" Katie snorts.

"Yes. Somewhere deep, deep, deep down beneath layer and layers of coal and ice, Snape has a good side," I nod, "Now, do you want fire breathing dragon fireworks that won't light the couches on fire or not?"

"Yes, please." says Lee.

"Then leave me alone to brew and charm in peace. Also, I might need a few fireworks from your stash. I'm running low and this is going to require a lot of recycling. I'll buy you new ones when we go to Hogsmeade."

"Take whatever you need," Lee waves his hand, speeding up to prepare the rest of the party.

"Lizzie, I need to speak to you."

"Fred, I'm brewing." I answer, adding lacewing flies to the deep blue liquid in the cauldron.

"Miss Black, keep stirring."

"Yes, Professor."

"Rosebud, come here." my dad calls form the door of the dungeon.

"I can't, Dad, I have to keep brewing."

"Rose, we need to go." Mum says from behind him.

"I can't. I have to keep brewing."

"Lizzie, run with me," Fred says from beside me, holding out his hand. Behind him, the dungeon is replaced by a forest.

"Elizabeth, do not stop stirring!" Snape snaps from my other side, the dungeon feeling drafty around me once more.

"Lizzie, we have to go!" Mum says urgently from the forest.

"I have to keep brewing!" I yell back.

"Stop brewing!"

"Don't stop stirring!"

"Lizzie! RUN!"

"Keep brewing!"

"RUN!"

"HE'S COMING!"

"Harry?"

"KEEP STIRRING!"

"Something is coming..."

"RUUUUUUN!"

"AAAHHHH!"

I sit up so quickly that my hair flips forward, wet with sweat.

"Lizzie?" a groan comes from the bed next to mine, "Are you alright?"

"Sorry, Katie," I mutter, "Nightmare. It's fine."

"We could go get Madame Pomphrey..." Romilda suggests hesitantly.

"I'm fine. Really. It was just a stupid dream. Go back to sleep," I persuade.

The other girls in the dorm shrug and go back to sleep, but Katie keeps looking at me.

"I'm fine, Katie. Really. It was just a normal nightmare."

"Fine. But if you have another one, I'm telling Pomphrey."

Katie burrows under the covers again and soon enough her breath evens out with sleep.

I stare at the clock that marks four twenty-five. I've slept little over three hours, but I know that there will be no going back to sleep after this. Just a few minutes before sunrise, I sit out on the window sill to watch the horizon change, wondering what else is going to change.